


A Witch's Sacrifice

by DroughtofApathy



Series: A Thousand Lifetimes [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adults seeking out the mental help they need instead of rushing into a relationship first, F/F, Heavy Angst, Heavy Self-Loating, Magic, Magical Trauma, Magical school, Sacrifice, Self-Esteem Issues, Witchcraft, hostile takeover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 11:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DroughtofApathy/pseuds/DroughtofApathy
Summary: Ravenna Rathmore is not kind. She is bitter, and lonely, and not at all the teacher students can run to for help. But when she is asked the impossible - to give up all she is worth - to save them, it is truly no decision at all.





	A Witch's Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> I'd consider this my best work in the series so posting it second is probably a bad idea because we can only go downhill from here, but too late now. 
> 
> Loosely inspired by the feelings the song "She Used to Be Mine" by Sara Bareilles in "Waitress" evokes.

She can't bring herself to regret it; not for a second even as her body screams, and her mind breaks down. Not if it means keeping the children safe. Her magic for their ensured well-being. She is not a nice teacher, she knows that. She is not the one they can run to for aid or inspiration. She is a bitch, a strict perfectionist who teaches them the best way possible to cast their spells, and appears to care little for their hearts. She is not patient or kind. She cannot be there to comfort them as the devil incarnate takes over her school. She cannot protect them by striking down the enemy. But she can keep them safe by making a deal.

When that bitch of a witch takes her magic from her, takes it away and entraps it in a locket no larger than a button, Ravenna Rathmore doesn’t have the strength to keep standing. It’s all she can do to keep from screaming as her magic is forcibly torn from her. It’s as though they’ve taken her lungs for she cannot breathe, taken her brain for she cannot think. They may as well have stabbed her a hundred times for Ravenna thinks it would hurt less than this.

And when at last her magic is locked away, Ravenna is empty. She is nothing. How can she be anything without all she has ever known? But the humiliation of seeing those usurpers’ smug faces at her disgrace, the agony she feels, it is all worth it. She loves those students, her students, more than she has ever loved herself. More than she ever will.

They leave her to struggle off the hardstone floor, cackling as they go. They leave her to her misery. It takes nearly half an hour for her to stand up. Immediately, she grasps the small locket. They’ve left it for her. Some might say as a consolation, but she believes it to be her torment. When her magic is so very close, yet worlds away, it is not a comfort.

It is almost unbelievable. That they could fit her magic, the strongest and most powerful around bar none, in such a small trinket of a thing. It is insulting, and she aches all the more. But she cannot dwell on that now. She may be powerless and demoted, but she still must continue her job. There are rounds to make, papers to grade, and if she can focus on that, she will not have to face her glaring weakness.

But it can never be that simple. Every step she takes, every time her hand twitches to begin a spell, is a jarring reminder she is nothing anymore. Before she could cloak her shortcomings in her strengths. She is the strongest witch in these lands. No. She must harshly pinch herself to keep the tears at bay. She was the strongest witch. Now the very quality that made her who she was is gone.

She never used to believe magic could be taken away. That it could be stolen. Surely something so intrinsic to her very being would be impossible to separate. Surely, she would die without it. But she does not. So, she does what she must. She carries on as though she is not withering away into nothing.

Ravenna has always been the most efficient and thorough of the teachers during rounds. All it took was a simple flick of her slender wrist and she could simply transform into a small and lithe leopard to better ensure the school was safe. But now she must slowly walk the darkened halls, tremors still coursing through her body.

There is little action on her rounds these days. Not with such odious bastards in the castle. No student wishes to be caught out and risk punishment. What they dole out is far worse than anything Ravenna had ever put them through.

Every step, her heeled boots echoing across the halls, is painful, yes, but it is so much better than the alternative. Ravenna dreads having to climb up to her quarters. She dreads the long spiraling staircase hardly fit for anyone to walk upon. A transportation spell, magic only the most skilled are able to accomplish, takes her to and fro usually. But now she must make the climb.

It takes nearly half an hour, and she must stop every few dozen steps. Not only out of exhaustion and pain, but because she must pull herself up past broken sections like a child in the trees. Once, she nearly falls to her doom. Her exhausted arms barely cling onto a precariously stable railing. But then, perhaps snapping her neck is a mercy.

At long last, Ravenna stumbles into her quarters. She is shivering despite her overexertion. The absence of her magic leaves her empty, yes. But she never thought being empty would be so painful. She expects numbness, or disconnect, but not agony. Not panic-inducing pressure that keeps her from breathing deeply enough, keeps her from being able to stand upright for more than a few moments.

She shivers violently. Her head pounds with the loss of her magic. Her knees and back ache. She’d forgotten how much she relies on her magic to keep herself comfortable. Without it, her insides feel like they’ve been tied to a stake and burned, and yet she feels as though she’ll never be warm again. The loss of her magic may as well be the loss of any body heat she’d ever had. Her teeth chatter, and her body shivers. She cannot control her own movements. It is horrible.

All Ravenna longs for is to curl up with a warming spell beneath her thick duvet, but she can’t. She can no longer simply spell away her clothing and cleanse her body of the day’s grime with a flick of her wrist.

When she realizes she cannot even undress herself without magic, Ravenna breaks. Still violently shaking, she collapses onto the floor, desperately trying to undo the column of tiny buttons that run in a straight line up her back. Her arms protest to such movements, and at last she gives in. Taking a knife to one of her favorite blouses seems a small sacrifice to make compared to what she has already done today.

Ravenna leaves her clothes in a pile. A sure sign of her despair. Never would the precise and orderly woman allow them to wrinkle like this. But she is bone tired, and just wishes to curl up and die.

Instead, she draws a bath and waits far too long for the steamy water to reach a preferable level. Huddled on the bath rug, Ravenna wraps herself in a fluffy towel to stave off the cold, but it does little to help. Her frigidness comes from within. A cruel voice in her head, once she’d gotten good at ignoring, tells her it serves her right. She is so icy to everyone at all times that it only seems fitting she should feel the pain she inflicts.

The bath only manages to give her comfort for the shortest of times. She admits she did not think it through clearly. With no drying spells at her disposal, she cannot escape the chill of the cooling water on her skin. Ravenna’s only consolation is that she had not allowed her hair out of its tightly braided updo. This too takes time to undo, but her long black hair has always been a comfort to her.

Ravenna sleeps fitfully, nightmares terrorizing her dreams. Even wrapped in every blanket she has, it is not enough. And it is a scant four hours later before she reluctantly rises. She’s given herself several extra hours because she just knows how useless she truly is without magic, and she just knows she will fail in the simplest of tasks. It would be foolish not to properly compensate.

Her hands have stopped shaking as much as they were last night. It is a small reassurance that perhaps one day she shall become used to the distress. Still, it takes three attempts to arrange her hair the way she wants it. Being feckless is no excuse for not looking as close to perfect as she can get. Still, it’s been decades since she’s had to do her hair by hand. The moment her magic became controlled enough to handle her long black locks, she’s never looked back.

Her clothes must be chosen carefully. So many dresses and corsets rely on her mastery of simple spells. But she refuses to deviate from her habits. She is a creature of routine – though spontaneity has been known to happen in order to keep the students on their toes and alert – and will not allow this to change her.

She grits her teeth and manages to lace up her corset only after ten minutes, which she will count as a success.

When at last she is dressed, in clothing far too warm for an autumn day, she gingerly makes her way down her rickety old staircase. Even with all the time she has allotted herself, she barely makes it to breakfast in time.

Ravenna knows the others are aware of her plight. Knows they must see her as a liability now. She is nothing, and they will not wish to associate with someone so worthless to the academy. Unable to stomach their pitying gazes, she picks at her food.

It is worth it, she reminds herself. She will make herself pathetic for the safety of her students. She owes them that much.

But as Ravenna Rathmore strides into her classroom, desperately trying to conceal how very cold and empty she is, she wonders how in witch’s name they expect her to teach if she cannot use magic. She must tell them. The students have a right to know their teacher is no longer effective in the only thing she can do.  

“There has been a recent development,” she says, and it is a small relief that her voice remains as hard and strong as it always is. “I am…unable to use my magic. Or more to the point, I- I no longer poses the talent. But I am still employed as a teacher in this academy, and I intend to continue to impart my knowledge on you. We must simply find an alternative method. Everyone find yourself a partner and repeat after me. Do not move your hands.”

The lesson is not a complete disaster. Even if she does have to turn to one of the more experienced and talented students to rectify a small mishap she normally would not even have to move to fix herself. But it is a learning experience for them all. They must be more cautious, she warns them. Without her to clean up their messes, they must be more vigilant than ever.

They know. The students are not idiots, as much as she sometimes scolds them for their foolishness they are clever. They know her warning is not merely one that applies to these four walls. And they know how much being powerless has affected their teacher. She is tense, even tenser than usual. Surely they must see her…her fear in her eyes, no matter how much she tries to conceal it. Children should not have to know the adult responsible for them is terrified.

One child, a young woman really, holds back after class is dismissed. “Miss. Rathmore, I’m so sorry this happened to you.” She looks uneasy, as though she expects Ravenna to lash out at her. To assign her detention for her impertinence. But instead Ravenna just thanks her softly, and refuses to meet the girl’s eye as she ushers her out.

She makes her announcement speech in each of her classes, though she knows they have already heard from their fellow students. Seeing the pity on these children’s faces turns her stomach. Ravenna never wanted them to see her in such an incompetent state.

She just knows she’s made a fool out of herself all day. From the beginnings of a motion to cast a spell, to her uncontrollable shivering, she is a mess. Wisps of hair escape and one lock refuses to stay out of her face. The day is miserable.

When Lucetta Sharpe quietly – and that woman has never been quiet in her life – offers to redistribute her watch schedule to the other teachers, Ravenna snaps. “Thank you kindly, Miss. Sharpe. I may be of no use to anyone any longer, but I will not allow my shortcomings to burden anyone else. I believe I have the East Wing tonight. Have a good evening.”

She hurries away, her posture impeccable as always, even as she shudders from the cold. It is somehow so much worse to see the disgusting sympathy in Lucetta Sharpe’s eyes than anyone else. Ravenna Rathmore has long since given up denying the attraction she feels for the potions mistress.

Lucetta is everything Ravenna is not. She is respected and loved at the school. Though she teaches her subject with frightening competence, she is not like Ravenna. She is strict, and terrifies the students, but they are in awe with her. They adore her classes, and do not see her demand for perfection to be unreasonable. Students flock to her. She is not kind, but she is wonderful. Lucetta is so unlike Ravenna. She is tall and beautiful. Everyone remembers her in a crowd for how could they forget the talented witch with the most beautiful red curls and bold burgundy clothing? Ravenna knows she would not be memorable without her magic. She is small, and her black clothing allows her to easily blend into the crowd, not stand out. She is not Lucetta.

She does not want to be like Lucetta. She could not be even if she tried. But she wants her. Longs to be on the receiving end of a smile, or a scrap of affection. She is simply so skilled and lovely that Ravenna cannot help but be irrational when it comes to Lucetta Sharpe.

But Lucetta could not possibly have harbored any feelings for such a miserable bitch of a witch even when she was the most powerful around. Now, she will certainly never see Ravenna as anything more than a wretched, worthless charity case unworthy of her time of day. And besides, Ravenna is certain Lucetta Sharpe is inching her way into Hedda Hallow’s bed. And Hedda Hallow is a vivacious, charming woman. Ravenna can see the appeal.

So, Ravenna does what she has always done. She tampers down her desires, and carries on as though nothing is wrong. Just as she has done for the past eleven years while sitting beside that magnificent woman each day.

And if the climb up to her lonely tower is painful and dangerous, Ravenna does not complain. She cannot feel heartache when her heart quite literally aches with the effort to climb.

She wonders, in the following weeks, whether anyone has thought about the difficulties of the climb for her. Ravenna imagines most have not spared her a second thought, for the staircase remains as perilous as ever. It is not as though she’s made herself emotionally available for anyone to get close to in her twenty years of teaching at the academy. Oh, she is civil to her colleagues. It would make for a terribly unproductive school if she were to make the channels of communication difficult. But she is not friendly, and keeps to herself. Ravenna knows they think her standoffish, arrogant even. That she believes herself better. But that is nonsense. She is – was – the strongest witch in the land, yes, but she is not better because of it.

No, Ravenna thinks, as she shivers beneath her blankets. She is not better, and now she is insignificant in every way.

It’s so tempting to cry. To give in to her grief over her loss. Really, without her magic, she may as well be dead. Her old self, that is. Now, when she can bear to look at herself in the mirror, she can hardly recognize herself.

It’s in those magicless moments, high up in her tower, that she faces the truth. That this school has taken so much from her. That without her magic, she doesn’t know who she can be anymore, or if there is anything to be. Alone, terrified, Ravenna thinks she is broken, but she cannot seek help. Even this worthless shell of a thing she is refuses to give the bastards the satisfaction.

But she’s not herself. Once, she’d held herself up proudly, even if that pride never managed to manifest itself inside. She’d walked with her back straight and her head up. Now, she’s terrified of everything. Every noise makes her jump. Every sudden movement causes her to shrink back. Her entire body, in addition to still being so very cold, is fraught with tension she can’t seem to let go of because it surely must be the only thing holding her together.

None of this is supposed to happen. Those witches and wizards aren’t supposed to be in her school. They are not supposed to be here, controlling every staff member, and putting every child in harm’s way. This is supposed to be a school for learning and betterment, not a prison. But the children are not being tortured or murdered. She has ensured that by giving herself up for them.

Ravenna thinks back to those first few weeks, when she’d still been magical but even her strength hadn’t been enough. When they invaded, and she could do nothing. When the children started coming to class with injuries no child ever should experience.

But that all stopped when she gave up her magic. They’re all safe because she let them kill her in that room that night. The woman she once was is gone. This shell, this incompetent shell, isn’t even important enough to ensure she gets to her bed in one piece.

Ravenna wants to sob. Wants to mourn for her loss. But crying means red and swollen eyes that she cannot hide with magic. And she is weak enough without looking it too.

But Ravenna is nothing if not a survivor, so she painfully adapts. She learns to conceal her startled jumps, and keep her face neutral. She keeps herself tense because she does not shiver as violently that way. She teaches the students all she can with the little she has. Somewhere along the line, it crosses her mind to leave the school before the next term can start. The students will benefit from having a true witch teaching them the precise art of spellcasting.

But these thoughts are quickly dashed when she truly thinks it through. Certainly, those bastards will replace her with one of their own, leaving the students even more vulnerable. And without her near, she will be powerless and unable to act as insurance. Besides, Ravenna thinks bitterly, it is no use having a spayed witch at your mercy when she is not there to be humiliated.

And it is not as though they allow Ravenna Rathmore to go about her day simply sans her only worth. No, it seems her mortification is a great source of amusement because those bitches of witches do whatever they can to make her life even harder.

The first time she comes into her classroom to see everything on the shelves has been levitated up and restructured, she is furious. There is a precise organizational system she has in place, and now it’s a wreck. She has to clamber up onto tables and chairs like a child just to reach the books she needs to teach with. And even then, the small woman can barely manage. When she stiffly asks one of the taller students to assist her, she feels sick and shameful.

It takes her hours of dragging around a ladder she found in a storage closet to resort through her shelves. She can’t lower them back to where they were, but at least the books are organized.

The denigration never ceases. And Ravenna deserves it. She must. She is a magicless woman among the talented. She is worthless, and should not be treated as someone deserving respect. That treatment must be earned, and she cannot possibly do anything to make that happen. Ravenna is used to suffering in silence. She is used to vile and hateful thoughts to swirl around in her head. The words the bastards fling at her barely make her blink anymore. If this is Ravenna’s life, so be it. The children are safe. She can take the abuse so they will not have to.

It’s still impossible to breathe normally, and Ravenna is almost constantly lightheaded. The corsets probably do little to help, but they’re not torturous. She likes the order and constriction, even if she has nothing to constrict. She doesn’t sleep much anymore. She’d never slept much in the past either, though when that came to be too much she used to covertly take a few sleeping potions from Lucetta Sharpe’s storage in her rooms. But she cannot enter those rooms without magic. Evidently Lucetta enjoys having quarters with no door to enter by. Ravenna can’t say she doesn’t sometimes see the appeal. Only the most talented witches could transport themselves inside. And there are only four teachers, including the bastards, who can do so. Or rather, there were four.

So, she suffers in silence. It’s not as though she’s unused to doing so. Those without magic must suffer this way, so too will she. She adapts. Ravenna becomes used to the pain. She finds it easier to cope when she does not have to face herself in the mirror.

But life has a way of disturbing her carefully crafted walls. It is nearly the witching hour when she hears the clanging. Ravenna reluctantly climbs from her bed, and tries to pull herself together. Whatever student has been foolish enough to climb those stares to fetch her will surely regret it. She may be denigrated, but she is still Ravenna Rathmore.

“What in witch’s name is the meaning of this?” She wrenches open the door, expecting some tragedy. But nothing can prepare her for Lucetta Sharpe frantically pounding at her door. “Lucetta?”

“Please! I- I don’t know- please!” Lucetta collapses just inside, clutching at Ravenna’s dressing gown. She is nearly incoherent, but Ravenna manages to figure it out. They’ve taken her magic, leaving her just as empty as Ravenna. She’s clutching a small carpet bag, and Ravenna thinks she can see blood staining the bodice of her dress, but it is just so hard to tell with a woman who always wears red.

Ravenna drops to her knees, reaching for the distraught woman. She feels panic creeping up her throat. If they have taken Lucetta’s power as well… “You must be freezing.” But Lucetta shakes her head and laughs, almost hysterically. She is not cold. Not even close.

“It’s as though every inch of me is on fire,” Lucetta says. And Ravenna sees the sweat pouring off of her. She touches her frigid hand to Lucetta’s burning forehead, and they both sigh in short-lived relief. Then, realizing they are sprawled on the hardstone floor, Ravenna urges Lucetta inside.

But Lucetta can barely stand. She must have used the last of the last of her energy to climb up to Ravenna’s tower. Foolish, Ravenna thinks. She may have fallen. She might have died. And Ravenna is no help. Too small, too weak, she cannot lift the taller woman without her magic. She is a useless good-for-nothing wretch. Lucetta should never have come here.

Unable to do anything else, Ravenna tries to support Lucetta as she staggers upright, but her knees buckle beneath the other woman’s weight. They both stammer out apologies, and somehow, they manage to hobble into Ravenna’s bathroom. She draws a bath of cold water, even though testing the temperature makes her shiver all the more violently.

Lucetta lays sprawled out on the floor, feebly pulling at the buttons on her dress. She looks pleadingly at Ravenna, her face flushed with heat. Quickly, Ravenna drops down next to her once more. It would be so much easier to take a knife to the thick fabric, but instead Ravenna undoes each button with numb and shaking fingers. She refuses to allow herself to dwell on how many years she has imagined doing this exact thing. For Ravenna never wanted it to be like this.

Lucetta flushes even hotter, if at all possible, when Ravenna tugs her dress over her head. Sensing her discomfort at being so exposed, Ravenna averts her eyes. She lets Lucetta struggle out of her underthings, and only intervenes to ease the boiling woman into the freezing water. Lucetta nearly sobs with relief. Ravenna thinks she hears the water sizzle as Lucetta disappears beneath the surface. She keeps her eyes steadily away from the naked woman in her bathroom, instead gathering Lucetta’s discarded clothes and bringing them into the bedroom where she left her carpet bag.

She’s barely five minutes before she hears Lucetta’s anguished cry. Ravenna hurries back into the bathroom to see that the water has actually steamed up. “How can you stand to be wearing that?” Lucetta fixes her gaze on Ravenna’s heavy robe. Ravenna looks away, admitting she has been freezing rather than hot.

Lucetta unsteadily rises, and though she looks slightly embarrassed, her physical discomfort must win out for she does not shy away from Ravenna’s hesitant gaze. But at the sight of the fluffy – black – towel Ravenna offers up, her face falls. Simply too overheated to even think of drying off, Lucetta instead lies down on the cold stone floor.

“Your hair,” Ravenna says hesitantly. Lucetta stares up at her in confusion. “It will tangle if you don’t deal with it now. Here, let me-” Ravenna cuts herself off and pulls away. Foolish, she scolds herself. Lucetta does not want her to touch her more than necessary. She cannot. But Lucetta just nods.

They sit in silence. Ravenna is careful not to snag or pull at Lucetta’s red curls. When the sodden locks are brushed free of tangles, she braids it back without a second thought. Lucetta, she thinks, looks beautiful with her hair braided like this. But just as quickly as the thought crosses her mind, Ravenna stamps it out. She has no right to think of such things. No right at all.

Instead, she busies herself by tending to the cut on Lucetta’s arm. It had been blood on her dress after all. The thought that Lucetta had hurt herself traversing the dangerous staircase just to come to her makes Ravenna’s chest tighten. She does not speak.

But Lucetta has never liked complete silence. Painfully, bitterly, she tells Ravenna, the one person who can possibly understand, what they have done to her.

It’s different with Lucetta. They do not threaten the children, they do not offer their safety in return for her magic. They have already given that. Perhaps they had known. Perhaps they had known Ravenna would have scoffed at threats to her own person, laughed if they tried anything with her. But they must have known she loves those children more than her own life.

And Ravenna knows Lucetta would do anything to keep the students safe. But they do not need that anymore. So, instead, they threaten Lucetta with her own talent. They lead her into a room where there are seven vials lined up. And they tell her if she wishes to remain magical, she must drink. Each and every potion every single day. And what they ask is impossible.

Those potions, they will take away everything from her. One will strip her of her ability to control what comes out of her mouth. She will be forced to voice each and every private thought she has. Another, a love potion. And at this, Lucetta spits out the words in disgust. Love potions are deceptive. They are bottled rape, and each witch knows this. And those are the best of the lot.

This is not a choice. She cannot take the potions, and they know that. They are threatening her with rape disguised as a harmless bit of infatuation. Lucetta refuses. So, they take her magic, leaving her to burn. Ravenna thinks this is a rape in and of itself. And it hurts. It hurts more than Lucetta could have ever imagined. She does not know how Ravenna could stand it all these months.

“It is…an adjustment,” Ravenna admits, looking away. But if anyone can understand the agony she has been in, it’s Lucetta. “But I’m sure you will be able to cope better than I. Come, you must sleep. It- it helps if you’re not conscious to feel the pain.”

It is only as Ravenna hurries away into her bedroom that she realizes she has just one bed. And while it normally seems overlarge in the lonely nights, now it hardly seems adequate to comfortably fit both of them.

She wishes she could just magic another bed for her…guest, but she can’t anymore. When she turns back around, Lucetta is standing at least so that is a relief at least. But she is holding up the nightdress with trepidation. “I- I can dress if it makes you more comfortable.” But Lucetta looks miserable at the thought of wearing anything at all.

“I am never comfortable,” Ravenna says matter-of-factly. “But nudity does not bother me. Please, if it helps alleviate the heat by all means. But I must warn you this discomfort is seemingly inescapable.”

Lucetta nods and throws aside the flimsy red silk with only a touch of hesitation. This, Ravenna thinks, must be what hell is. To know what delicate nightclothes Lucetta Sharpe wears to bed is one mild torment. To know what she looks like utterly bare is torture. It is some help that Lucetta keeps an arm crossed over her breasts as she struggles into her underwear.

“Do- do you always feel this lightheaded?” Lucetta asks miserably. Ravenna nods, burrowing under the blankets. She feels warmer with Lucetta here. She would almost rather the cold than take advantage of this woman’s anguish.

Lucetta cannot return to her own rooms. She does not even have the comfort of familiarity that Ravenna is privy to. She cannot simply transport back to her rooms, and had to beg to be allowed to collect a few things. It had been salt in the wound.

Ravenna wants to ask why, of all places, Lucetta dared to climb the dangerous steps up to her tower. She is not in a convenient or safe place. There are other places, other people. All far better and more helpful than Ravenna is.

“I would not have come here,” Lucetta admits, as if reading Ravenna’s mind. “Knowing how much you value your privacy, but I- what I mean to say is, they strongly suggested I take refuge in your tower. I cannot live in my quarters, and there are no spare ones available. They mean this as an insult to both of us. I am truly sorry to be an inconvenience to you and to have disturbed your sleep, Miss. Rathmore.”

Ravenna flinches at that, as though Lucetta has slapped her. “You may as well call me Ravenna. I have not been much of a Miss. Rathmore since- well since. And it’s no bother. I don’t sleep much these days anyway.” She looks away, huddles deeper into her blankets. Lucetta awkwardly climbs onto the bed, her arms still crossed over her chest.

It cannot be that Lucetta is shy about her body, Ravenna is certain. Lucetta is the most confident woman she knows. She has seen her before, at balls and parties, always garbed it the most tantalizing of outfits that showcase her beauty. Those glimpses, flashes of upper thigh, strips of pale skin visible because of plunging necklines, can never fail to make Ravenna shiver before she remembers to pull herself together once more. Now, of course, she shivers for other reasons. Still, such expanse of skin visible to her is too much to bear.

It cannot be that Lucetta is shy. It must just be that she is unwilling to grace Ravenna with her perfection. After all, she is undeserving of such splendor. Yes, it must just be that the idea of a bitch of a witch like Ravenna seeing her is repulsive. That thought does not hurt. Ravenna is used to them.

“Your staircase,” Lucetta says at last. “Why have you never asked anyone to fix it?” Ravenna squeezes her eyes shut. How can she explain to Lucetta that she doesn’t deserve help? That she is not important enough to warrant the effort. She would not understand. Lucetta has never been anything but self-assured.

“I am not helpless,” she says instead, even though she could not be further from the truth. She is helpless, and unworthy of aid, and an embarrassment to the academy. “I simply…believe it unwise. The-” She wants to make up the excuse that they mean for her to have to struggle up to her tower each night, and down again each morning. It is probably not inaccurate. But she can’t say that.

No, not now that Lucetta is to be staying with her against her will. Which brings up another issue. Lucetta does not want to be here. She would never, under normal circumstances, want anything to do with Ravenna Rathmore. This is a punishment for her. Ravenna will not make it harder for her. No, she will see about fixing the staircase tomorrow and tells Lucetta as such.

Lucetta hums in approval, one hand fanning herself futilely. She looks at Ravenna with a pained expression on her face. Ravenna is not surprised. She is used to being looked at with a less than favorable gaze.

“Why are you being so nice?” Lucetta asks. And Ravenna must look so startled it makes Lucetta’s lips twitch just a little. “I only meant, well, the other teachers and I have not been helpful to you. I would understand if you cast me from your bed right now. We abandoned you, and I know you must be resentful. We’ve never been…close, but at least we’ve been on good terms. But ever since they- they violated you like that, you’ve been even more distant. I’m sorry we haven’t been there for you.”

“Why- why would you apologize for that?” Ravenna turns to look at her in shock. “It’s right that I distance myself and you all do not associate with me. I am…broken; nothing. And wouldn’t want to taint the magic in the school with my shortcomings. It’s easier when you all need not see my- when I am not close enough to concern yourselves about.”

A hand touches her in an approximation of where her shoulder is. Ravenna stiffens, her eyes wide. But Lucetta holds her gaze. It’s both uncomfortable and exhilarating. To be lying this close to the woman she so adores, and yet for this woman to see her so unguarded – unguarded for Ravenna Rathmore at least – is terrifying. She may as well be the one lying naked and exposed. Ravenna schools her face into something uncaring. Something more reminiscent of the old Miss. Rathmore.

“Ravenna, you’re…you’re not broken. How could you think that, and say it as though it were the truth?” Lucetta looks utterly perplexed. Ravenna just raises an eyebrow, thinking it fairly obvious.

“It is,” she says simply, and looks at Lucetta as though she has tried to correct her on an elementary principle of spellcasting. “I am the sum of my abilities, and the only talent I’ve ever had is gone.” And she hates, absolutely hates, how her voice breaks. She shouldn’t care. Has managed to bottle up her anger and devastation because it is worth it, and she deserves this. Has no right to feel this way.

Lucetta deflates a little. And Ravenna suddenly can’t look at her again. Someone as good and brilliant as Lucetta shouldn’t have to bear witness to the absolute mess that Ravenna has become. “Do- do you think I’m…nothing, then?”

“No!” Ravenna says, harshly, loudly. It startles them both. Ravenna, no matter how angry or exasperated, does not raise her voice. Lucetta is the one to loudly scream and make a fuss. She repeats herself more calmly, already berating herself for losing control. “No. We are different, you and me. I am nothing without my magic because that is all I have ever been. But without magic you are still Lucetta Sharpe. The students will still love you, the staff will still respect you. You’re bright, and good, and so much more than just ability. Now, I believe I’ve disturbed your rest enough tonight.”

Ravenna rolls over, barely breathing. It hurts. Everything hurts, and it strikes her as all so unfair. Lucetta should not be forced to endure like she must. Ravenna has shared too much, and now Lucetta knows what she thinks of her. Witch’s hell, if she somehow finds out how Ravenna longs for her, Ravenna is sure she will have to die. Better to be dead than to see the disgust in her eyes.

She lets Lucetta wake up to an empty bed. It’s better that way; her pile of blankets will not add to her discomfort and stifle her any more than necessary. Though it’s tempting to simply slip away before Lucetta realizes she’s gone, the thought that the taller woman might injure herself further on those stairs is enough to keep Ravenna in place. It would be her fault if something were to happen, and the students and staff would all rightfully blame her.

She lets Lucetta ready herself alone. The redhead leaves her hair down. Without magical aid, she cannot put it up in her usual elaborate style. It strikes Ravenna speechless; she’s never seen it let down in all its riotous glory before. And she looks better than she did last night. The absence of magic is affecting her internally, so it is a small comfort that she is not flushed and sweating profusely any longer.

Still, Lucetta looks about ready to pass out from heat exhaustion, and her hair is not helping matters. So, telling herself it would be selfish not to help simply because she cannot control her emotions, Ravenna sits the taller woman down and pins up her hair in a passible approximation of its usual style.

Making their way down the staircase is, just as Ravenna expected, an ordeal. She’s small enough that the staircase hardly notices her presence, but no matter how lithe Lucetta is, she’s still much heavier than the tiny woman who usually resides in the tower. They nearly fall to their doom half a dozen times, but though Lucetta rants and raves the entire way down, Ravenna doesn’t make a sound.

“I’ll see about having someone fix that,” Ravenna says. And before Lucetta can say anything, Ravenna hurries away. She grimaces as she seeks out the new headmaster. But she will make herself beg for Lucetta’s sake.

“You can imagine how satisfying it is to see the ‘most powerful witch in the land’ grovel at my feet,” says the headmaster. He smirks down at Ravenna, who is most definitely not at his feet, thank you very much. “But I’m afraid you have nothing left to give me in return.”

“Surely you can come up with something to humiliate me with for all of your pleasures,” Ravenna says. She wants to spit at him in disgust, but she wants to succeed more. And in the end, his terms are not physically damaging like taking her magic had been. The other staff members take on her rounds and non-educational duties, leaving her time for her new role as a servant to the bastards who have taken over her school.

But Ravenna Rathmore does not cry. She keeps her back straight, and learns to control her shaking hands as she pours tea and serves plates of biscuits. There are six of them. She cleans and launders, all without any magical aid. And they jeer at her, cackle at her disgrace. And today is only the first day.

She burns with humiliation, though it does little to ward off the cold. But it is worth it, she reminds herself, gritting her teeth as she sweeps out the fireplace, and fetches little trinkets they toss aside for her to pick up mere moments later. It is worth it if it ensures they will not take any other magic from anyone else.

Besides, she savagely thinks as she makes the long trek up to her quarters. This is her rightful place at the school now. She cannot in good conscious continue calling herself a form mistress. And while her teaching duties have not changed, it is but a matter of time. This is all she’s good for now at a school of magic.

The thought of one day perhaps having to wait on the rest of the staff, witches and wizards she had once been on equal footing with, is humiliating. As, she realizes, is walking through the castle with soot on her face and staining her hands. Well, at least no one can see the state of her clothing against the black-colored fabric. But it’s nearly the witching hour, and no children are running about at this time. The only one she could possibly have to face is…

“I’d begun to worry,” says Lucetta. She sits up from her supine position on the duvet-less bed, wearing just her thin bra and underwear. Her hair is piled atop her head in some semblance of a bun that’s gone off.

Ravenna ducks her head, and hurries into the bathroom. Lucetta shouldn’t have to see her like this. She doesn’t deserve the punishment of having to stare at such a pathetic creature. It’s freezing in her rooms. The windows had been open for Lucetta to get some relief via the cold winter air. Ravenna doesn’t close them. She will be cold either way, so one of them should be allowed relief.

It’s barely ten minutes before the bath water, ashy from the soot on her body and in her hair, turns cold from being near the shivering woman. But she lingers, wrapping herself in an oversized towel.

When she finally emerges from her bathroom, Lucetta has closed the windows and lit a fire, even though she looks about to faint. Ravenna hugs the towel tighter to her body. She had not lied when she told Lucetta she has no issue with nudity, hers or otherwise. It matters little to her if Lucetta can see her. There is nothing spectacular to see. But it just so cold.

“I was thinking,” Lucetta says, and she blushes slightly when she sees Ravenna drop her towel and hurriedly wrap herself in what should be warm clothes. “Perhaps we might be of some assistance to each other. And if you feel uncomfortable, please say so. But you are freezing, and I am boiling. Do you think we might be able to moderate out temperature by…touching?”

Lucetta looks slightly mortified to have even suggested it, but she hesitantly pats the bed. Ravenna stares at her, only half dressed. The thought of cuddling nearly naked with Lucetta Sharpe is almost too much to handle, but she nods. Because of course she does. She nods because her pathetic little crush is not more important than Lucetta’s comfort.

She steels herself and takes off her heavy robes and nightgowns and tentatively lays down. Lucetta looks just as uncertain, but she moves closer and wraps herself around the smaller woman. They both gasp quietly at the almost instantaneous comfort. Ravenna is still cold, but the incredible heat Lucetta is giving off does wonders.

She sleeps decently for the first time in months. After that, they spend every night wrapped around each other, Ravenna’s tiny body shivering against Lucetta. She forces herself to ignore how wonderful it feels. To be somewhat warm in the arms of- but no. This is not about her own pleasure. This is about making sure Lucetta is comfortable.

Ravenna’s grateful for the extra sleep she now gets. Though she does not need to roam the halls during checks and watch, being at the beck and call of the bastards is exhausting. Her hands are raw from scrubbing their laundry, and her back and knees ache from having to scrub at floors. She’s constantly exhausted now, but can barely stomach eating even half her plate at mealtimes.

She grows gaunt, her body all hard angles. Between teaching, slaving, and rewriting lesson plans she used to have perfected, Ravenna is honestly shocked she hasn’t collapsed yet. Even she, stubborn determination and pride all wrapped up in a tiny Asian body, isn’t invincible.

It’s spite, she realizes after she overhears two of the bitch witches gossiping about how they’d been sure she would break after a few weeks. But it’s been a month of this new servitude, and Ravenna is still alive and bitterly holding on.

And for the first time, she allows herself a small smile. Good. If she is somehow inconveniencing them even a little, she will stay alive for that.

But she’s fading, and she knows it. Ravenna can’t keep this up forever. Perhaps if striping her of her magic just left her numb, it would be easier. But she’s in so much pain even after months. Her nights are spent in semi-warmth, and she swears it gives her the strength to go on.

Just as she’d suspected, Lucetta adjusts remarkably well. The students still adore her, and no one loses an ounce of respect for the charismatic teacher. It’s harder, Ravenna knows, to brew potions without magic, but not impossible. She can still be magical even without magic itself. And with another teacher stripped of her magic, the students and staff have someone else to sympathize for and dote on. Just as always, Ravenna gets lost in the shuffle. She is used to that. Even someone powerful, she’d never been attention’s sweet center, and Ravenna prefers it that way.

No one asks her if she’s okay. No one comments on how she’s slowly wasting away, or how she doesn’t even have the energy to admonish a wayward student. They don’t notice how her eyes are dull and her skin pallid, and if they do they don’t seem to care. She no longer catches herself just before she can twist her hand in an attempt to cast a spell.

Even with Lucetta in her bed each night, Ravenna feels her loneliness squeeze at her insides. This must be the torture she fears most of all. To be held by a woman she so loves, even after everything, but to still be invisible. Lucetta believes she wants nothing to do with anyone else, and she does not even so much as glance at her outside their tower. So, Ravenna keeps to herself.

Until, that is, she finds Lucetta sobbing on their bed. She must not have expected Ravenna back so early. As far as she knew, Ravenna simply stays in her classroom until nearly midnight, just revising. But Ravenna had been sent away early.

Ravenna rushes over to the bed, terrified something is wrong. But Lucetta waves her concern away as she desperately sobs. Ravenna recognizes a panic attack when she sees one. They’re no stranger to her, anxious wreck that she is.

“What can I do?” Ravenna asks, worry laced in her tone. Lucetta just sobs harder, and everything comes pouring out.

“I- I can’t do this! I can’t be powerless, and dependent on everyone and everything. It’s horrible, and I’m- I’m not like you, Ravenna. I don’t have your strength, and- and- and I’m so so scared. I’m terrified of being alone for even a minute because I’m helpless and vulnerable, and I hate it. A fucking first year could accost me in the hallway and I’d be powerless to stop them if they wanted to hurt me.

And there are just so many people constantly around me, worrying and smothering. I like being independent and alone! I want- I want my quarters where only a few people can come. I want my potions lab back without having those bastards breathing down my neck. I want my fucking school!

I can’t breathe, I can’t think. And- and it’s so pathetic, but I can’t calm down until you come home every night. Because what if one of them comes? What if they transport up, and I’m alone and they- they- what if they make good on their threat even without the potion?

And I hate this. I hate being scared, and defenseless. I hate crying like a child. I hate burdening you when you’re already going through so much. I don’t know how you’ve done this for so long, Ravenna. Witch’s sake, you’re just- just so strong and I thought I was good enough but I’m not!”

Ravenna doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t expect this, not from Lucetta Sharpe. Lucetta is supposed to be the confident adaptable one. She’s not supposed to be the one who breaks. And it makes Ravenna tremble.

“You- you’re enough,” Ravenna says, because she’s not sure what else there is she can say. “Lucetta. I- you’re so wonderful. So, so wonderful, and strong. Stronger than I can ever be. Stronger than the entire castle combined. I- you’re not pathetic at all. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

But Lucetta shakes her head. “You never cry, ever. I’ve never once seen you break down, and look at you! You- you’re suffering and wasting away, but you stay strong.”

Ravenna bows her head; a lump forms in her throat. “Don’t mistake this- this cowardice and stubborn complacency for strength. I do not cry because I- because I can’t bring myself to. But you can. You are so much more than I can ever be, and so much better than anyone else.”

“How can you say that?” Lucetta demands. “I can’t- I can’t believe I’m worthy of respect or love or anything. How can you say I’m better when I can’t even- when I can’t fall asleep without you next to me? I’m nothing!”

It shouldn’t hurt but it does. Hearing Lucetta express her disgust with her hurts. Ravenna feels ill. “I can see how that would be distressing for you. I know I am not Hedda Hallow, and must be disgusting to stomach. Perhaps that means my opinion will count for little, but I- surely you must know how much you are loved.”

“I don’t,” Lucetta says, curling up on herself. “They do not love me. They pity me. You have to see that when you walk the halls. They think us useless.”

“I love you.” It just slips out without meaning to. Immediately Ravenna tenses. She begins shaking in horror. Never has she ever said anything without intent. But Lucetta is staring at her with something akin to wonder. There’s a shred of hope in her eyes, and Ravenna will drag herself through mud to make Lucetta feel at peace again.

“I- I always have, I think. All these years. I mean, you’re incredible, Lucetta. The brightest, most beautiful, most amazing woman I’ve ever known. I- I love you. Even now. Or especially now. I’m not sure which anymore. I just know nothing has made me change my mind about you because I’ve tried for twelve years. Tried to- to stop loving you because I know you can never love a woman so full of failure like me.”

Lucetta’s shoulders drop, and Ravenna thinks she’s made a horrible mistake. But Lucetta just wipes tears from her eyes. “You can’t love me now. Not when I’m…broken. God, I’m so broken.”

And Ravenna knows no words that can convince Lucetta she still longs to kiss her. That she still dreams, in the few hours she does sleep, of a better life where she and Lucetta are together and happy. It’s not right, what she does instead. She knows she should never, ever, do something so violating, but Lucetta’s lip is beginning to quiver. And before she can stop herself, Ravenna is pressing her own to Lucetta’s.

For one glorious moment, Lucetta kisses back. It’s frantic, and desperate, and Ravenna finds herself moaning. But then, they’re springing apart, and Lucetta’s staring at her in shock and horror.

Ravenna can’t breathe. What she’s done. It’s horrific, and selfish, and disgusting. She is no better, she thinks bitterly, than the bastards who lined up seven potions for Lucetta to swallow. She cannot bear to see the disgust in Lucetta’s eyes. A woman like her could never be anything but when kissed by a shameful, good-for-nothing, vile bitch of a- bitch of a woman.

She runs. Turns tail and runs like the coward she is. Down down the rickety staircase, through the empty halls, she runs even as her lungs burn and her legs shake. It’s not until she reaches the deserted library that she slows to a halt. But she only stays a moment before she can’t be there anymore. Libraries are pure places for good people. And she is not good.

But Ravenna can’t run anymore. Any ounce of self-respect gone, she collapses to the floor of the staff room and just sobs for the first time in longer than she can remember. Harsh ugly gasps wrack her thin frame, and thick tears roll down her cheeks onto the floor.

“You worthless, disgusting, horrible woman!” She shouts, lashing out. Papers go flying as she slams her hands against the table. It stings, but she deserves this pain. “You dirty-” she flings a glass vial across the room- ”nasty-” it shatters into a million bits- ”wench of a thing!” Books end up overturned, spines cracked. She can hardly see through her tears. Blindly reaching out, her fingers catch on a sharp edge just behind where a row of books once stood.

That jars her out of her stupor. Ravenna desperately sucks in air, trying to reign herself in and regain control. She should never have been so weak as to give in like that. The room lays in horrific disarray, adding to her anxiety. She does not stop to look at the jagged edge that slices her until she has rigorously straightened and tidied her awful mess. Only then does she turn her attention to the catch in the wall.

And there, hidden so well she might never have found it, is a spellbook. One that, Ravenna thinks as she hurriedly riffles through the old pages, is far too convenient really. In it, she finds detailed ways the bastards who have her school captive might be defeated if only she had any magic to defeat them with.

But then, she does. Ravenna touches the locket she wears around her neck. The locket she knows is keeping her magic prisoner. This might kill her, she thinks. It might tear her fragile body to shreds. But, she reminds herself, it is worth it.

She is not pure, she is not kind. But she can be good just this once. Lucetta deserves to be free and safe. She deserves her magic coursing through her veins once more. She deserves better than a selfish little creep who assaults her in the middle of a panic attack. And the children. Oh, the children. They deserve a school that can teach them, and a place that isn’t a danger. They don’t deserve to be constantly terrified that something will happen, or someone will go missing. Ravenna is not stupid enough to believe her deal kept them all wholly safe. It just keeps them alive. But surviving is not living.

It’s not hard to see why the bastards were not concerned with keeping their downfall better hidden. This is a procedure that ten people could easily fail at, and one certainly would. But then, they have never met a woman like Ravenna Rathmore before. And to save the only things and people she has ever cared about, she can be enough. For once.

“I’ve failed them so many times,” she murmurs, memorizing each and every word. “Not again.”

But Ravenna Rathmore is no longer a witch. She is ordinary, and helpless, and weak. She needs help that she cannot have. In despair, she slides the book back into its hiding spot. The excitement of its discovery fades away and reality sets in. Hope, she reminds herself, leads to disappointment. Just as that brief moment of hope that Lucetta would actually return her affections made it all the more devastating when she looked so horror-stricken.

 She can’t do it. She’d been a fool to believe she, of all people, is strong enough to save the school when she cannot even save herself.

What if she fought harder when they first arrived? What if she hadn’t been so useless and had only acted faster? What if she hadn’t been spineless and fought back harder rather than let them put her children in danger?

It’s too late to save anyone now. They’ve won. And Ravenna is to blame. She just knows it. What good is being the most powerful witch around when she couldn’t do one single thing right? And now she is nothing more than a servant to their whims. Suddenly, Ravenna is filled anew with shame. Her fault. All her fault. They are in danger because she’s not good enough, not fast enough, or smart enough, or strong enough. She’s not enough so how could she have even entertained the notion this time is different?

“Foolish old woman,” she chastises herself. “You’re no hero. And you never will be.” She thinks then, she should leave. There’s no use in staying. No use in anything anymore. They’ve taken over. The school will be run their way, and the students will be taught hate and fear. Ravenna cannot do anything to change that, so she should just leave. Or…or cloister herself away. She is, after all, still bound to the bastards. And if all she can do is clean up their spilled tea with her own dress, it’s what she’s always been meant for anyway.

It’s so strange, Ravenna thinks. Here she is, utterly broken and defeated, yet nothing has changed. Beyond avoiding her tower like the plague and stealing precious few hours of sleep on the floor of the kitchens next to the stove, it’s business as usual.

Twice, Lucetta tries to talk to her, but Ravenna is so ashamed and despondent she cannot meet her eye. Lucetta does not try again. It’s colder without her. Ravenna knows this is true. She doesn’t stop shivering, and can barely control it anymore. Nothing changes until it does.

They must realize she is well and truly broken, because it gets worse. Everything gets worse. Because they grab Mabel Hallewell, a year one student, to make an example out of her. And something inside Ravenna Rathmore sparks. Ice and rage come flooding through her body. The fire in her eyes, all but extinguished, reignites with a vengeance as she sees little Mable Hallewell trembling before the entire school.

“We made a deal,” Ravenna hisses to the bitch witch next to her. “My magic for their safety. This is not part of the deal!”

But the woman just chuckles. “What can you possible do about it? You’re nothing, Ravenna. Nothing and nobody. You’re powerless, so who’s going to stop us? The girl must be taught a lesson.”

The headmaster smirks dangerously down at the little girl, and Ravenna reacts on impulse. She cannot teleport herself in the way. She has no magic to protect her. Instead, though lightheaded and weak, she launches herself onto and over the dining table and throws her frail body in front of his curse.

It should hurt. It should be agony as what feels like a thousand fires erupt across her skin and inside her body. But Ravenna knows agony. She knows what is feels like to freeze for months on end. She knows what not breathing is like. Ravenna Rathmore does not scream because this does not hurt.

Instead, terrifying everyone, she laughs. She laughs and laughs for this is the first time she has felt warm in so very long. And it’s that spark of warmth that sets her ablaze, growing stronger and stronger.

“I can do this,” she breathes. Her eyes dart to a large hourglass solely placed in the great hall for aesthetics. She can do it. Ravenna knows how. She can trap them. Her body is shaking as fire and ice wage war against each other. What she plans to do is reckless. She could die. They could all die. But it is worth it.

A banishment spell, a containment spell, a sedation spell, all six times over. A recipe so dangerous and difficult no one could possibly pull it off but the best and most powerful witch around. But a sacrifice must be made. If is her life, so be it. If it is the magic trapped within the locket, so be it. They are worth the pain.

There must, she thinks desperately, still be some magic left in her. Magic is all that she is and all that she ever will be. It is so intrinsically tied to her existence, surely there must be something left deep down.

Ravenna desperately tries. Something, a spark, anything. But nothing happens, and the headmaster is laughing down at her. That does it. She has never tolerated being laughed at by a man. Ravenna wildly looks around. And she sees the fear on her students’ faces. Sees the dread of her staff. Mabel Hallewell is still standing just behind her, tears pouring down her face. And Lucetta. Lucetta looking terrified and pained.

It’s foolish and laughable to say that love has anything to do with it. Desperation and an unstoppable need to protect is more like it. But Ravenna sees everyone she cares about and knows she has to succeed or they will all surely pay the price for her failure. And it cannot happen again.

It’s just a spark. The tiniest bit, but it grows, and festers, and Ravenna can feel magic in her veins again. She is the most prolific spellcaster in this castle, and weakened or not, she can still inspire terror beyond measure.

She chants, words so ancient and powerful, few have ever dared speak them aloud. She speaks, and each syllable sends a knife-like slash of pain over her body. She knows she’s shaking, knows she’s faltering. But she doesn’t stop. She can’t stop. But it’s not enough. She’s not good enough. Doubt comes rolling in, and she feels what little magic is left in her curling back in terror. Doubt comes roaring over her, and she can’t breathe.

But suddenly, she’s there. Lucetta is there beside her, clutching at her hand and begging her to- to do something. To keep going, to stop. Either one. Just to do something before she kills herself dead.

“You don’t have to do this,” she screams, clinging to the smaller woman. “Please, it’ll kill you. You can’t survive. It’s not enough to- please!”

But Ravenna shakes her off. She knows her magic isn’t enough. Knows she has only a hope of trapping two of them. Three if she is insanely lucky. But the headmaster just keeps laughing at her and Lucetta pleading with her. Spite, she thinks with a slow smirk, has always been her greatest motivator.

But Lucetta’s right. She can’t do this alone. So, Ravenna makes a choice. She does not trap two or three of them in the hourglass. Ravenna Rathmore does not do things by halves. Instead, she grabs the locket from around Lucetta’s neck and chants. This she can do. This she can guarantee she gets right.

And suddenly all she sees is red. Red like blood. Red like rubies. Red like the woman she so loves. It surrounds them, spinning faster and faster until it pours into Lucetta like a typhoon.

“You must say the words!” Ravenna screams at her. “I’ve made my sacrifice, now you must enforce it. Do it!” She can barely sit up anymore. The last of her magic swirls around her own locket, ready to give the sacrifice as soon as it’s time.

“I- I’m not strong enough,” Lucetta insists, but she stands, rage and anger bubbling up and out. She is. Ravenna knows it. She is so much stronger than Ravenna herself can ever be. Powers and cleverness. That’s nothing. Lucetta has so much more than she does. Is so much more. And Ravenna tells her this in a rapidly weakening voice.

Ravenna expects to die. There is no harm anymore in telling Lucetta the true extend of her devotion. She has already rejected the destitute woman so there is nothing left.

They can hear the screams; enemies and students alike mingle together. Whirlwinds swirls around them, tearing at Ravenna’s hair and clothes. She sees Lucetta’s eyes begin to glow, and knows it is time.

With one last breath, she releases the locket. It falls and shatters into a billion pieces of dust and magic black as the very void itself explodes out. It twists and turns in the air, billowing over and out the entire room. Tendrils grasp at the enemies, squeezing and trapping, until their mortal bodies are forced into nothingness and trapped in an eternal timeloop structure.

Ravenna watched with her heart bursting in pride as her magic converges on the decorative hourglass, constricting the great structure smaller and smaller until it at last becomes no larger than a…well a locket.

The last of the black cloud dissipates, leaving not a speck behind. And at last, Ravenna feels it. She feels the emptiness she’d expected when they first stole her powers from her. She is not cold anymore. Her head pounds but for a different reason. Her lungs, burning and screaming in protest, can finally expand to their full capacity. But she is empty. Hollow. There is nothing left inside of her. Her magic, her beautiful strong magic, is well and truly gone forever.

She can hear the cheers and celebration of the students and staff alike. She watches from the floor as they all converge on the stunned Lucetta Sharpe. She is their hero. As, Ravenna thinks, it should be.

In the chaos and confusion, Ravenna Rathmore slips away into the crowd. No one tries to stop her. No one pulls her into the fray. And she is both grateful and deeply hurt by this. But then, it doesn’t matter. She tells herself fiercely she has no right to be praised, and would not want it even if she did. All of this was her fault, after all. It would be arrogant to believe in rewards.

Someone has picked up the hourglass. Ravenna hopes it is someone with a clear head on their shoulders. It is an inescapable prison. Her sacrifice ensures that. It is unbinding, unlike last time.

Ravenna brushes aside a shameful tear as she slowly climbs up the rickety old staircase, once more in shambles. She likes it better this way. If she falls, there is nothing to catch her.

Her old tower is just as she left it. The bed is perfectly made with all her blankets and duvets piled atop it. The windows are shut tight against the cold March air, and none of Lucetta’s belongings remain. She’d probably fled immediately after it became apparent Ravenna was not coming back.

Of course she’d be disgusted to stay in the room of the woman who assaulted her. It is as it should be.

The room is overly warm. Now that Ravenna is no longer an internal icicle, she feels stifled by her many layers of clothing. The window takes some jimmying to open. It’s so much easier with magic. Her clothing takes less effort, and soon she is wearing one of her lighter dresses.

As Ravenna props herself up on the windowsill, she wonders what it would be like, only briefly, to fall. To just let nature have its way and tumble down and down and down all the way to the ground. It’s only a fleeting thought, of course. She can’t justify forcing the school to have to deal with her body or her death because she cannot handle herself in a weak moment.

For now, she climbs down from the high ledge, and shuts the window tightly once again. There is blood on her hands. Figuratively, metaphorically, literally. It shines red, and Ravenna squashes down images of curly red locks and rich crimson fabrics. She has dealt with her traitorous heart for years. She can deal with it for a little longer. After all, soon she will be out of the academy for good, and need never have to see the revolted look in Lucetta’s eyes.

It’s time for her to leave. With the students no longer in danger, there is no use for a broken non-witch. Not in a classroom meant to teach them how to cast spells. By leaving, Ravenna gives them their best chance. To stay, a broken shell of a thing, would be selfish and illogical. Ravenna is not a witch anymore. She must adapt.

She plans to have her resignation letter on the new head’s desk by nightfall. It gives her a pause considering who will be the new headteacher. Surely either Lucetta, a hero and a wonderfully charismatic witch, or perhaps Millicent Tripe, a born leader. The school will need them. Not her.

But it rattles her how much she longs to stay. Even to stay hidden up in her tower for all eternity. This academy is her home. She’s never truly known anything different. Her mother, curse her soul, raised her in the castle as she ruled over it as headmistress. Or rather, Ravenna raised herself with a little bit of magic the hallowed walls provided. She’d attended school here, and taught immediately after. Without this place, Ravenna has nothing. There’s no magic left hidden deep within her. The emptiness she feels can attest to that.

That little sliver she’d had left all these months. She wonders if that’s the reason she survived. She wonders if she’ll fall into a fitful sleep tonight only to never wake up. All that she was is magic. All that she ever was.

“I wish it killed me,” she whispers to the empty room. It’s morbid to think, but anything would be better than this pitiful reflection of a life.

“I’m rather glad it didn’t,” says a voice behind her. Ravenna flinches, and her entire body curls in on itself. It doesn’t help that she would recognize that husky voice anywhere. Reluctantly, Ravenna turns to face the taller woman. “You disappeared before I could find you. I know you hate crowds, but I’d hoped…well I’d hoped you might join in on the celebratory feast. After all, you saved us all.”

Ravenna shakes her head in disagreement. She has saved nobody and nothing. That’s all Lucetta’s doing. She simply…righted a grave mistake. “I plan to depart before the sun is up. It- it is inappropriate for me to continue on as a teacher here. Painful, as well, though I loath to admit it.”

“Figures,” Lucetta says, and Ravenna can hear the bitterness in her voice. “You always were good at running away. Well you can’t this time. I won’t let you. We need to- to talk about what happened that night. And god, what happened today. Ravenna, you gave me back my magic and very nearly got yourself killed. And, and, you fucking kissed me and then just ran away.”

“Don’t you think you might spare me this humiliation?” Ravenna says, and she is on the verge of begging. “Please. I beg your forgiveness for my inexcusable action that night. I accept any consequences you might wish upon me.” Ravenna bows her head, knowing she deserves this.

“Oh, for witch’s sake!” Lucetta snaps, rolling her eyes. “Ravenna, I’m not angry at you for kissing me! I’m angry at myself I didn’t kiss you senseless that night. I wanted to, witch’s sake, you don’t know how much I wanted to. Ravenna, I- I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Ravenna’s head snaps up. She can’t believe Lucetta’s words. It’s not that she’s shocked, it’s that she quite literally cannot believe her. Lucetta must sense this because she drops down to her knees in front of the tiny woman.

“I wish you could see what I do, Ravenna,” she says softly. And Lucetta has only even said anything softly once in her life. “You’re beautiful, and brilliant, and not just because of your magic. I love you. Truly. Can I say anything that might make you believe me?”

“I believe you,” Ravenna says. Lucetta’s hopeful face is too much to bear. “I simply believe you’re being ridiculous. I have nothing to offer you. I’m worthless, and useless, and a dozen other unfavorable adjectives. You could do so much better.”

“But I don’t want better because there is nobody better,” Lucetta pleads. “Please, at least- at least don’t leave tonight. Come down to the feast. You’re- witch’s sake you’re so thin.” It’s easier to overlook how thin Ravenna has become when she’s bundled in layers upon layers. Reluctantly Ravenna nods.

Transporting with someone else’s magic leaves Ravenna unbalanced. Lucetta uncertainly steadies her, and tentatively askes if Ravenna would like to clean up first. She’s asking permission, and Ravenna wants to refuse, but she knows she must look a sight. The cleanliness spell leaves her feeling refreshed and looking somewhat like her old self, though her hair – brushed out and loose – is nowhere near her usual style.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure…” Lucetta flushes slightly. Ravenna simply pulls her hair back into a simple ponytail using the tie she’s taken to keeping on her wrist. She just wishes to get this over with.

The hall is deadly quiet when they enter, Ravenna trailing just behind the taller woman. She can see each and every single person pointedly not looking her way. She has to squeeze her own hands to keep them from shaking. Gradually the chatter starts up again, but she knows they’re all stealing glances at her.

“Miss. Rathmore?” Ravenna’s head snaps up anxiously. It’s Mabel. Cautiously, the little girl approaches the front of the hall before the staff’s table. Ravenna nods slowly. But Mabel just rocks back and forth, waiting. So, Ravenna slowly walks around the table to stand in front of her.

Mabel could have died today. She could have been tortured. And it strikes Ravenna just how young she is. And yet. She hadn’t noticed when she threw herself in front of the little girl, but Mabel is barely shorter than her. By the start of term next year, she’ll easily surpass the ex-witch.

“Miss. Rathmore, you- you saved me,” Mabel says shyly. “Thank you. Please, you’ll stay on, won’t you?”

Ravenna sees the entire hall waiting for her answer. She lowers her head in shame. “I- I can’t in good conscious stay on. You deserve a teacher who can teach. Spells class with someone who cannot use magic is ridiculous. No, your education is paramount.”

“Please, Miss.” Another girl, a year four student, stands. “With all respect, I don’t think you’re making the right decision.” Ravenna stares at her, clearly affronted. Even powerless and in agony all those months, she’d never been interrupted or corrected before.

“She’s right, Miss,” a boy from the other table says. “You’ve taught us all year, and not having magic hasn’t affected your abilities to educate at all. You’re just as good, Miss. It’s just a different way of explaining things, and it’s honestly better.”

“Yes, Miss.” The girl hesitantly comes closer. Ravenna resists the urge to glare or back away. “It’s- it’s really helpful, honestly. Now instead of just watching you effortlessly carry out a spell, we have to work our way through it and learn through different, more practical, ways. You’re an excellent teacher with or without magic, Miss. Rathmore.”

Ravenna thinks, had she been anyone else, she might have burst into tears at that. She’s still not convinced she won’t. “I-”

“Miss. Rathmore,” says Lucetta, coming to her rescue. Ravenna turns to her in partial relief, partial dread. “We desperately all want you to return to teaching here, but after the ordeal you’ve been through. I- I myself have been considering taking the remaining term off. Perhaps you might find something similar amenable?”

“I- yes,” Ravenna says, nodding. She turns back to the school, to her students. She doesn’t know why, but she feels compelled to speak. “I- this year has not been easy for me. I, well truth be told, I have always stocked my self-worth in my magic. And, even with or without it, I- I profoundly hate myself. And I need to…deal with that before I can simply return to what I’ve always done. I’m not- I mean I-”

“Is it true?” Mabel interrupts, stopping Ravenna from the beginnings of what she knows will be an ugly anxiety attack. “That you gave up your magic to save us? Twice? Miss, that makes you a hero.”

“No,” Ravenna says firmly. “No, it is not heroic. I simply…my number one priority is and has always been your safety. Do not confuse duty with heroism.”

“Still, you’re my hero,” Mabel says. And without warning, she throws her arms around Ravenna’s thin frame. Ravenna freezes. She can’t remember when anyone has ever hugged her before. It’s…nice. She awkwardly pats Mabel’s back before they quickly pull apart and sheepishly return to their seats.

The students don’t stand up one by one to agree with Mabel Hallewell. They don’t applaud and cheer. She doesn’t want them to. But she can feel their need to make her believe she’s a hero. She’s not, but it’s touching.

That night, Lucetta helps her pack. They tentatively talk about the elephant in the room. Ravenna still believes Lucetta deserves better. She’s not sure she’ll ever not believe it. And she’s not…she’s not okay. She loves Lucetta, but she can’t in good conscious ever embark on a relationship when she can’t- when she just can’t.

“I know you don’t believe me,” Lucetta says gently. “But I do have feelings for you. You’re brilliant, and caring, and you love so much even though you pretend you don’t.”

“You don’t.” Ravenna is sure of this. “You love Miss. Rathmore. Or Ravenna Rathmore. They’re poised, and powerful. They’re women to be respected and women who are capable. You don’t love Ravenna. You can’t love Ravenna. She’s- she’s broken, and lonely, and refuses to ask for help. She’s- I’m terrified of everything, and a mess.”

“I know you’re not the woman we put on a pedestal,” Lucetta says. “But all of that, it’s all part of you and I can and will love every bit. But you’re right. We can’t. I- I want you to be comfortable. With both me and yourself, if you can. So, I can wait. Or just be there for you. Whatever you want, whatever you need. And if you’re never ready, that’s okay too.” Lucetta presses a gentle kiss to her cheek causing them to both blush.

Ravenna’s not used to this. She’s not used to being told she can choose. So, Ravenna chooses to leave. There’s so much she needs to do and deal with. She learns to be a woman without magic. It’s easier than she’d expected. Before, there’d been pain and shivering nights. Now, she’s not in any pain. There’s no pressure squeezing at her lungs and heart. She still feels empty at times, but it’s getting better.

She finds herself therapists both magical and non-magical. It’s a slow process. Ravenna’s built her entire life around pretending she’s not in pain. Admitting it and speaking at length to strangers is not what Ravenna Rathmore thinks of as fun. But it’s helpful.

At their suggestion, she starts small. Starts with something necessary for survival. She has to make a conscious effort to eat twice a day, but it’s an improvement. It’s a slow process to regain some of the weight she’s lost, but her eyes aren’t hollow anymore, and her hair is starting to regain its shine.

When she looks in the mirror, she still feels the criticism bubbling up in her mind. She still has moments of self-hatred, but it’s not as hard to come out of it. She just has to remind herself she’s not nothing, and when that doesn’t work – as it often doesn’t – she remembers her school, and remembers Mabel Hallewell, and Lucetta Sharpe, and every other student and staff. And that helps.

When the summer’s over, Ravenna returns to school feeling a bit more like- well not like her old self, but someone new. Someone still lonely most of the time, but someone okay.

Lucetta’s waiting for her at the gates. Ravenna’s hesitant, and nervous, like they’re still schoolgirls who are trying to figure out how to ask the other one out. Ravenna refuses Lucetta’s offer to take her bags. It gives her hands something to do other than shake.

“Are you- I mean, are you better? Not to say you’re not- I didn’t mean to-” Lucetta flushes hotly, and Ravenna realizes she’s nervous too. It makes her relax slightly.

“I wouldn’t say I’m better completely,” Ravenna admits. “But I’m okay, I think. I’ve learned how to be someone without magic, and I’ve learned I can exist. I’m ready to teach again.” Lucetta beams down at her, and Ravenna decides she wants to see that smile as much as she can. They decide to try being friends first. Discussing books over tea in the evenings, taking walks in the meadows out back. It’s nice. Ravenna’s never had many friends. Any, actually. And with Lucetta, and even Hedda, and little Mabel, she has a wonderful support system.

Ravenna still insists on living up in her tower. She loves it up there. It’s safe, and quiet, and hers. She walks up the stairs because she’s still stubborn and prideful, but it gets easier and easier to ask Lucetta to transport her when she’s just too tired.

And the transition from friendship to friendship with romance is easy. They’re timid, and unsure. Neither want to do anything wrong to send the other scurrying away. But it’s easy, shockingly enough. They take things slow. Hours of cuddling in front of a roaring fire leave them both warm and smoothed over.

They both sleep better curled up around the other in Ravenna’s tower. More and more red seems to work its way into the black décor. And Ravenna loves it. It’s easy, but not perfect.

The first time Ravenna starts to panic, she’s terrified Lucetta will decide she’s too much trouble and just leave. But Lucetta’d done her own summer research. She’d wanted to be ready to help Ravenna in every way she can. She doesn’t run. Instead, Lucetta just holds her close, and asks what she can do.

They stay on the floor for nearly an hour. Lucetta lets Ravenna cry without saying anything at first. It’s, she knows, one of Ravenna’s greatest fears. To cry in front of someone else is to be weak and vulnerable.

When Ravenna finally calms down, Lucetta is there. She’s not running away, and she’s not disgusted. She lets her cry, and she tells her she’s not weak and that it’s okay, echoing Ravenna’s own words back to her. After that, Ravenna doesn’t worry so much about Lucetta leaving.

The first time they’re intimate, it’s not a spur of the moment choice. They’ve discussed it at length. Ravenna, to Lucetta’s surprise, has had sex before.

“Well, I was the most powerful witch around,” Ravenna says, and she’s rather pleased that her old snark is back in full force. “That’s always bound to attract the ladies. It’s simply been…some time. I understand it’s not the most seductive thing, but I’d rather discuss it first before we become intimate.”

“I understand completely,” Lucetta says, and she blushes. “I’ve- well, I’ve not…had much experience.” At this, Ravenna is the one to be startled. “Don’t look so surprised. I wasn’t popular in school; always the tall and bossy know-it-all. And then there was my career to worry about. What I’m trying to say is that communication is definitely seductive.”

That first time, it’s slow. Gentle. Ravenna is not shy, but Lucetta is. Her shyness about her body that first night they’d spent powerless together had not been out of disgust about Ravenna seeing her. It had been out of insecurity and modesty. And while Ravenna may not be always good at reassuring herself she is enough, she’s excellent at showing Lucetta how desirable she can be.

She does turn bashful when Lucetta wishes to reciprocate. It takes several weeks for her to feel totally comfortable being vulnerable like that in front of someone who now has so much power when she had none.

But the first time she opens her legs and receives the most exquisite pleasure she has ever been given, Ravenna doesn’t feel weak. It’s liberating, and amazing, and the most powerful she’s felt in a long time. Seeing Lucetta gaze up at her with such wonder makes Ravenna Rathmore melt.

They adjust, they’re happy. And then the winds pick up and bring a change Ravenna never thought possible.

“Ravenna,” Lucetta says one day right before they’re meant to go down to dinner. “The students and staff have been preparing something. And, they want me to give you a warning, knowing how much you dislike surprises and being the center of attention. And you don’t have to accept it! Either way, I love you. Every bit of you. But you have the option, now.”

Lucetta’s earnest and somewhat nervous manner is starting to worry Ravenna. Which is not saying much; unorganized stacks of paper make Ravenna nervous. But she follows Lucetta down to dinner and does not run away when she sees everyone staring at her.

“Miss. Rathmore,” says Mabel Hallewell. “I’ve- I mean, we’ve been doing a lot of research on things lately. And Theodore found something in a really old book in the library. It’s- we were all skeptical at first because it’s just a like a legend, right? But we did some more research and some experiments, and we proved it! Okay, so you know how there’s this witch’s tale that says when you cast a spell you leave a little of yourself behind? Well, we got to thinking, and, um, and there’s you, Miss. Rathmore.”

“Mabel, you’re rambling. Remember what I’ve told you about your essays: get to the point.” Ravenna waits, her patience vastly improved from the past, but still not infinite by any means. She is and never will be kind.

“Right, sorry! Um, it’s just, you’ve- you’ve cast some sort of correctional spell in nearly everyone in this school at one point or another, and you used to always demonstrate your magic. Plus! Plus, teaching us magic is kind of like its own sort of witchcraft, right? So, um, we started out small, and did a lot of tests because we didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, and it worked! But, um, we needed some help from a lot of people. Everyone, really.

So, Tandi and I spread the word, and Theo went to the other teachers, except for Miss. Sharpe, of course. And we- we got everyone together and we did it!”

“I’m not following,” Ravenna says, genuinely confused. She glances uncertainly over to Lucetta who just motions for her to listen.

“Your magic, Miss. Rathmore. You’ve been here so long, and given so much to this school. Given everything really. So, and when I say everyone, I mean everyone. All the students you’ve ever had and we- we managed to extract your- your magic. And it’s here, if you want it back.”

“But…but that’s impossible,” Ravenna says, her mind whirring faster and faster to try and keep up. “Magic doesn’t- I mean, yes you leave a part of you behind in each spell, but it just replenishes and that part melds with the rest of the persons. You can’t just extract it again. Especially after all this time.”

“Well, you’re always doing the impossible,” says Lucetta, coming to stand next to her. “I only just heard about it yesterday when they came to see about taking my magic. And I’m rather guiltily proud that I had a bit more of your magic than anyone.”

“It’s here, Miss. And- and we want you to know you don’t have to accept it!” Mabel looks at Ravenna earnestly, and she is taller than her now just as Ravenna predicted. “We love you with or without magic, and you’re a fantastic teacher either way. But, um, but we know it’s hard sometimes, so if you, um, want, it’s right here.”

Mabel shakily holds out a locket. But it’s not like the one that held her magic trapped against her will. This one is larger, prettier. Not nearly as ancient and decrepit looking. Ravenna takes it, her fingers suddenly shaking. She looks up, and sees Mabel’s words ring true. Not one person will care if she takes it or not. Because she’s good just as she is, and she’s good, not better, with her magic. But there, in the palm of her hand, is her magic.

Lucetta takes her hand and steadies the tremors. She’s always been so good at that. Lucetta loves her. Ravenna doesn’t need magic…not to feel like she’s worth something. But that doesn’t mean it’s selfish to want it back. And she does. She wants her magic almost more than anything.

“I love you,” Lucetta says, and they both blush at such a public declaration. But Ravenna has no issue saying it back. Everyone should know how much she adores Lucetta Sharpe. And everyone does.

She thinks a lock holding back her great and powerful magic should be harder to open, but it’s not. Just a simple click and suddenly magic, dark and beautiful, swirls around the entire great hall once more. But this time it converges on Ravenna Rathmore, surrounding and caressing. She can feel it enter her body through every pore, and can feel it course through her veins. She’d stopped noticing how empty she’d felt without it, but with it back she finally – finally – feels full again.

When at last the air is clear again, Ravenna is left smiling. Beaming in fact. It startles more than a few of her students who have never in all their years seen Ravenna Rathmore do anything more than smirk. She smiles, and she laughs. A delighted, awestruck, beautiful little thing. And before Mabel can return to her seat, Ravenna throws her arms around the no-longer-quite-so-little girl.

But before Mabel can even process being hugged by Miss. Rathmore, Ravenna is spinning around in Lucetta’s arms. She flicks a hand and suddenly she’s across the room. It’s almost too much, and she’s practically buzzing with sorely-missed power.

Lucetta rolls her eyes and calls to her. “Come, Miss. Rathmore. Eat something first, and then we can see about working off that magical energy of yours.” She blushes, realizing her words, but the whole hall is delightedly laughing as they watch Ravenna transform into a leopard and bound back to the front of the room. She almost knocks Lucetta over, but the taller woman is beaming.

“The witch is back,” Ravenna whispers, transforming back into herself. She’s a witch again, and maybe she’s not better as one, and maybe she’s not better as a regular human. But she’s Ravenna Rathmore, most powerful witch of the land once more. That, she thinks as Lucetta lifts her up and kisses her right there in the great hall, is all well and good. But even without magic, she’s already got her cake. Now, she can eat it too.

It doesn’t change things too much. Ravenna’s still anxious, and insecure, and not at all kind. She’s still a bitch of a witch, and still not one the students run to for comfort. But she is one they run to for help. This experience, she feels strongly, has made her better, stronger, but not kinder. Ravenna Rathmore is not kind, and she would not be herself if she was. 


End file.
